


your broken crown

by tattooedsiren



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/pseuds/tattooedsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike is a genius. He was actually tested once, and the results were off the chart. And yet, with all those brain cells crammed into his head he still can't understand the words Donna is saying to him. "What?" he finally manages to croak out.<br/>"Harvey isn't a lawyer anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	your broken crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sal_si_puedes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/gifts).



> This was written for sal-si-puedes, who bought a fic from me to help raise money in the latest fandomaid campaign. Thank you so much for your generosity, patience, and understanding. Even though this wasn't what you were after, I hope you like it.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely and amazing Kat for the emergency beta work.
> 
> Title comes from Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> And finally, I can only apologise for how long it's been since you guys have gotten a proper fic from me. There was a convergence of circumstances that bought about this large gap, but rest assured I've been working on stuff. My beta is currently working on the longest fic I've ever written, and I also have another fic that is in the final stages of editing, so this won't be the last thing you guys see from me. Enjoy. :O)

Mike's at court when he gets the call.

Of course, that means he can't answer it. He just sits there, phone buzzing silently in his pocket, as the opposing council makes his motion to the judge. It's a Hail Mary pass at best, and Mike is unsurprised but still relieved when the judge denies it. Mike has a weird sense of foreboding and he really couldn't care less about his case at this point but he still keeps going, presenting his own motions, defending against opposing council's objections, and all the while the phone in his pocket feels like a lead weight.

It feels like an interminable wait but finally they are finished. Mike, ever the professional when it counts, answers his clients' questions and sets up a meeting with them for next week and escorts them out of the courthouse. But as soon as he's free he ducks around the corner, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking his voicemail.

"Mike." It's Donna, sounding utterly wrecked, and Mike is filled with dread, knowing that whatever is coming won't be good. "Harvey, he … he took a deal."

The phone line clicks dead and his mind becomes a haze of white noise, even as he flags down a cab and gives the driver the address for Pearson Specter.

 

 

*

 

 

He doesn't know why he's running. Getting up to Harvey's office any sooner isn't going to change things, other than the modicum of reassurance he'll feel seeing Harvey whole in front of him. Still, it somehow still feels like a shock when he skids to a halt outside of Harvey's office and Harvey isn't there. Only Donna is inside, surrounded by boxes. Half of Harvey's records have already been packed away, and all the basketballs and baseballs from the window ledge are missing too.

He's gone.

Mike walks into the room, Donna looking up at his entrance. She looks pale, tired, and he doesn’t blame her.

"What happened?" Mike demands.

Donna shrugs. "He made a deal with Wolf. A fine, probation, and his disbarment."

Mike is a genius. He was actually tested once, and the results were off the chart. And yet, with all those brain cells crammed into his head he still can't understand the words Donna is saying to him. "What?" he finally manages to croak out.

"Harvey isn't a lawyer anymore," she says sadly, before going back to her task.

"Where is he?"

"He told me to start packing up his things and then headed to Jessica's office. That was two hours ago. I haven't seen him since."

Mike watches her for a moment, the drag of records as she pulls them from the shelves and packs them into generic brown boxes loud in the space between them, before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. It takes her a moment to respond, but then she wraps her arms around his waist, buries her face into his neck. They don't need to say anything, and why would they, when they’re both feeling the exact same thing.

 

 

*

 

 

"How could you let him do this?" Mike demands as he storms into Jessica's office.

Jessica looks up from the paperwork she is working on, leveling an even look his way. "When have you ever known Harvey to let someone else make his decisions for him? You're living proof that he does what he wants, damn the consequences. But for the record, I _did_ try and talk him out of this. It made no difference. I don't believe even _you_ could've changed his mind."

Mike walks deeper into the office, and when she doesn't object to his presence, collapses into a nearby chair. "I don’t understand. I thought he was fighting this." Because last Mike heard Harvey was due to go in and meet with Wolf to threaten and scare and basically be Harvey Specter, not to give in.

"So did I. But you can't deny that Harvey's been … he's been different lately. I think all the fight has gone from him."

"I don't believe that," Mike says vehemently, and it somehow coaxes a smile from Jessica.

"That's your loyalty to Harvey speaking. If you think about it for a second, you'll realize that it's true. And now, if you'll excuse me, losing one's name partner generates a rather large volume of paperwork."

Jessica looks back down at her paperwork in dismissal, and Mike stands and walks out; only before he makes it out of the room Jessica's voice stops him. "Can I expect to see you on Monday?"

Mike pauses, hand on the door handle, and lets himself breathe for a moment. Then he turns back and faces Jessica. "I don't know."

 

 

*

 

 

When Mike gets to Harvey's building he finds the strength to conjure a smile for Harvey's doorman, Tom.

"How's it going, Mike?" he asks with a wide smile.

"Good," he lies, because as much as Tom seems like a cool guy on the occasions that they chat, no one ever really wants an honest answer to that question. "Hey, have you seen Harvey in the last couple of hours?"

Tom shakes his head, confused. "I thought he'd still be at work. I haven't seen him since this morning."

Mike nods thoughtfully. "Mind if I go up anyway, just to check?"

"Sure, of course. Go for it."

"Thanks, Tom."

He heads up to Harvey's apartment, a walk he knows so well he could do it blindfolded at this point. He knocks on the door, waits patiently for a few moments, and then knocks again. When there’s still no answer he starts pounding on the door.

"Harvey," he calls. "Come on, let me in." No reply. "Harvey!"

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and calls Harvey, but there is no answer and he can't hear any ringing from inside the apartment. He'd like to think that that means Harvey isn't home, but really he could just be hiding behind the closed door with his cell phone turned off.

So he knocks again. And again. He keeps knocking, one continuous motion, hoping it will irritate Harvey into opening the door. He keeps knocking until his knuckles hurt and his forehead is pressed to the wooden door and his voice is hoarse from calling Harvey's name. And still, no answer.

Harvey isn't home. And Mike has no idea where to look next.

 

 

*

 

 

After trying a few of the bars and restaurants Mike knows that Harvey likes and coming up empty - not to mention calling his cell a half dozen times - Mike reluctantly comes to the conclusion that Harvey doesn't want to be found and heads home.

Which is of course where he finds Harvey.

He's sitting on the leather couch inside Mike's lobby, his face downcast and staring at the floor. He must've been home at some point, because instead of his usual armor of a three piece suit he's wearing dark blue jeans and a light grey Henley, and even though seeing Harvey in casual clothes stopped being a surprise a few years back it still does something to his chest, seeing Harvey this way. He looks so much more vulnerable. Harvey hasn't seen Mike yet, and Mike uses the opportunity to just take a breath, let the walls down as the relief floods through him before he steels himself for whatever comes next. Because Harvey was just disbarred and out of everywhere he could go to he came to Mike.

He has a feeling it's going to be a long night.

Mike takes a few steps forward and says, "You didn't answer your phone."

Harvey looks up at him, and seeing his face in the harsh light of his apartment building is a strange thing, because part of him expected there to be some kind of evidence of what had happened, that Harvey would have red rimmed eyes or messy hair from having run his hand through it too many times or he'd look more exhausted than Mike had ever seen. But no, he looks exactly the same as normal.

"I didn't really want to talk to anyone," Harvey says.

But if that was the case, why did he come here? Because Harvey has to know that coming to him in this moment means they are going to talk about it. Mike can't _not_ talk about it. So maybe it's not that Harvey doesn't want to talk to anyone, it's that he didn't want to talk to anyone but Mike.

Harvey would never admit that though, even if they both know it's true, so instead of commenting on Harvey's reply he simply tilts his head in the direction of the elevator lobby and Harvey stands and follows him.

The ride up to the top floor is quick but silent, and Harvey trails behind him down the hallway and into the apartment without breaking the quiet. Mike lets them in and Harvey heads straight for the windows, which is weird, because normally whenever he comes over he either just stands in the centre of the room (if it's for business) or heads straight for the couch (if it's for reasons that he pretends are business related even though it's really just to eat pizza and watch movies). Harvey stares out at the sparkling skyline of downtown Manhattan as it glistens on the river, and Mike is hit by some weird reverse déjà-vu, because he can't even count the amount of times he turned up at Harvey's place and headed straight for the windows and now Harvey is finally returning the favor.

Harvey doesn't move even as Mike crosses the apartment over to the bedroom area; his apartment is actually more of a loft, so Mike’s able to keep an eye on Harvey even as he sheds his suit jacket, shirt and tie, leaving them on the thankfully made bed. Harvey is so preoccupied that Mike manages to change into jeans and a t-shirt without Harvey's notice. He then waits in silence, perched on the edge of his bed, unsure what to do and watching Harvey for any cues.

After a few minutes of reflection at the window Harvey apparently decides to take a scenic tour around the apartment. He looks around the loft like he's never seen it before, which is stupid, because Mike moved in here over a year ago - after he and Rachel called off the wedding and she moved to California while Mike moved back to Brooklyn to escape the memories of all the loss suffered in that apartment - and not only was Harvey the first person to visit but he's been here dozens of times since. Yet he wanders around the apartment, taking in all the details like it's his first time here, lingering by the Chinese Panda on the wall and smiling slightly.

"Have I ever told you how much I like your place?" Harvey asks, turning around to look at Mike across the expanse of the apartment.

Mike scoffs. "Of course not." Even on that first visit Harvey had said that it was 'adequate' and that was it. Which was fine, because Mike knew that 'adequate' was Harvey speak for 'this isn't what I would choose for myself but I understand why you like it'.

"Well I do. It suits you. It's homey."

"Did you seriously just use the word _homey_? Are you drunk or something?"

Harvey's face lights up, and it's incredibly similar to the way he looks when Mike says something random that sparks an idea that saves a case. “Not yet.” Harvey moves to the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a couple of beers. Mike meets him by the couch and accepts one with a smile. He taps his bottle against Mike's before taking a swig.

"Would it make you feel better if I said it's like the bastard love child of your old Brooklyn apartment and my condo?" Harvey says as they collapse onto the couch.

"Not really, and thanks for the weird visual by the way." Mike glances around the loft, considering. "I guess it does kinda remind me of your place now that you mention it," he concedes, because this is the biggest place he's ever lived in (which means it's still much smaller than Harvey's place) and he has floor to ceiling windows and even though it's vastly different in some ways he can admit that there are also some striking similarities between his and Harvey's apartments. It wasn't on purpose but it's probably not surprising either, since he's basically treated Harvey's place like his second home since the first time he was allowed over its threshold.

"Except it's ten times more hipster," Harvey says with a self satisfied grin before taking another sip of his drink and easing into back the couch, eyes closed and looking utterly relaxed, like the entire world hasn't shifted off its axis today.

"Okay, why the fuck are we still talking about the apartment I've lived in for a year?"

"Because it's easier," Harvey replies without missing a beat, and the _than talking about what happened today_ is unsaid but heavily implied.

"Well maybe I wanna talk about it."

"Well maybe I don't," Harvey says, opening his eyes and looking firmly at Mike. "So, tell me how you did in court today."

Mike isn't proud of the fact, but he just loses it. The last few hours - finding out what happened, trying to find Harvey - collapse on him and he puts his beer on the coffee table with a loud slam and he stands up and just starts yelling.

"How the hell are you so okay about this? You were _disbarred_ , Harvey. You get that, right? How the fuck did you let this happen? They had you on charges you could've gotten out of with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back but you just fucking gave in. This is bullshit. I - I don’t think I can deal with this. I'm just gonna quit and tap out and fucking, I don’t know, move to Vermont and rear goats or some shit."

Mike's breathing heavily, out of steam. Harvey looks vaguely amused, mouth quirking upwards ever so slightly for the blink of an eye before he sobers. "Feel better now?"

"Honestly, no," Mike says, collapsing back onto the couch. "Harvey, how are you so calm about this?"

"Because I have to be."

Mike isn't impressed, and by the deep exhale Harvey makes he thinks that expression must be shining like a beacon on his face. "Tell you what," Harvey says, turning to face Mike more directly, and his knee knocks against Mike's but doesn't move away, "let's grab a pizza, have a few drinks, and once I'm so inebriated I can't see straight I'll tell you everything."

Harvey is smiling like this is a brilliant plan that Mike will love. He doesn't. "I'm not getting you drunk just so you'll open up to me, Harvey. If you can't tell me sober then maybe you shouldn't tell me at all."

Harvey's smile fades but he doesn't look away. Mike keeps his gaze because he wants Harvey to understand. Mike will be there for him, always, thick or thin or anything in-between, but Harvey has to let him. After this long, the passage of so many years, if Harvey doesn't trust Mike or want to confide in him then there’s nothing Mike can or will do to force him to.

"Okay," Harvey says, several long moments later. "Pizza, a movie, and _one_ beer. And then we'll talk."

"Okay," Mike agrees. He heads over to his bed where he left his cell. "You want the usual?"

"Why break with tradition at this point?" Harvey says, and finally Mike is able to smile.

 

 

*

 

 

It's one beer, two pizzas, one and a half movies and almost three hours later when Harvey finally decides to talk.

"Do you wanna know what the worst part is?" he says, voice impossibly low. "It's that I don't know what the point of all this was."

Mike turns off the movie and gives his undivided attention to Harvey. "The point of what? The point of making a deal?" he asks, somewhat hopefully. There's still time. Surely the DA hadn't submitted the paperwork for the deal yet. Maybe they could still fix this; Harvey could go back to work like nothing had ever happened.

"No, the point of being a lawyer in the first place."

What the fuck? "What are you talking about?"

"When I was a kid, about six or seven years old, I wanted to be a musician like my dad. It was never going to happen of course, because my dad passed down a lot of things to me but musical ability was not one of them. But I wanted to be just like him, because he loved what he did more than anything, and everyone around him loved him like family. He was always happy, and it seemed like the perfect life. But then I grew up, had the falling out with my mother, became jaded, just wanted money and power. I’m not sure I turned out anything like him in the end."

Mike doesn’t comment on that last statement. Though he has no doubt that Gordon was proud of Harvey, faults and all, Mike never met the man, and he doesn’t think any reassurances he can give will hold any weight. So he thinks it’s better to come at it from a different angle. "Are you saying you didn't love being a lawyer as much as your dad loved being a musician?"

"I don't know. I loved the fight, the thrill of a win. It was … no matter how bad or stressful it got there was still an element of enjoyment in there. But I haven't felt that way in a while. And I just …" Harvey shakes his head, like he's trying to shake loose a thought he doesn't want to deal with. "Look, no one knows better than you that I've crossed lines before. But I went too far this time. I need to stop. I needed to _be_ stopped."

"So stop," Mike says emphatically, hand pressed to Harvey's thigh. "You could’ve fought this, not crossed any more lines. You didn’t have to give in."

"I did. Mike, I’m just so tired. The last few years … it's like I'm not even practicing law anymore, I'm just staving off one attack after another after another."

Mike can't help the guilt that flows through him at that, physically pulling back from Harvey as it crashes over him. Because Harvey is basically saying that he enjoyed his work until Mike became a part of it.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and in this moment, for the absolute first time, he wishes he'd never walked into the Chilton that day. Because Harvey gave him everything, and if Harvey hadn't met him he'd still be happily employed, and Mike would rather be a drugged out deadbeat than be the reason for Harvey's downfall.

But now Harvey's looking at him with his patent _you're an idiot_ look. It probably shouldn't be as comforting as it is. "You know this isn't about you. If anything, having you with me kept me going as long as I did."

"But if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have had to face half the battles that you did." Mike doesn’t know why he keeps bringing this up, but he can't help it. Harvey did the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for him, but it did come with a cost.

Harvey just looks at him for a moment, his gaze full of earnest intent. "I don't regret hiring you, Mike. Not for a moment."

He says it so simply - so _easily_ \- like it's a matter of fact so evident that it's not up for debate or question. And even though Mike can't help but think that maybe Harvey's life would be better off without him, he also can't deny the way that he feels, and he honestly feels like his life began the day he met Harvey.

"But getting back to the point," Harvey says at last, "I didn't really make an impact as a lawyer. I didn't change any laws, create any precedents, save any lives. All I did was make rich people richer."

"What about Clifford?" Mike points out.

“Moot point. He wouldn't have needed to be freed if it wasn't for me. "

"Fine, what about Gabby Stone? Nancy Dominczyk? Keith Hoyt? Wyatt Ladin? Do you want me to go on, because I could, I'll be here all day."

He gets a ghost of a smile in return for that.

"What about me?" Mike asks, and it comes out more plaintive than he intended but he couldn't help it. Harvey just looks at him like he's torn between wanting to hear more and wanting to run and hide where no one will ever find him. "Okay, fine, you might not have saved someone on death row or created a precedent but you made a difference, Harvey. Even in times I'm not sure you really wanted to."

Harvey chuckles ruefully at that. He drops his gaze, focuses on his hands for a moment, the way his fingers twist and turn.

"Did you know that my dad played on what are generally considered to be three of the best jazz albums of all time?" Harvey looks back up as Mike shakes his head. Harvey smiles slightly. "If he was a singer everyone would know his name, but because he was a sax player he never got the recognition he deserved from the public. It never seemed to bother him though. But still, people in the industry, other artists, they _still_ talk about his influence, decades after he last played. Now _that_ is a legacy."

Mike considers this for a moment. It's a strange dichotomy, the Harvey that everyone sees who appears brash and unconcerned with people's opinion of him, compared to the private Harvey that Mike has gotten to know, who craves stability and wants to make some kind of significant impact on the world.

"Harvey," Mike says gently, "I think you're looking at this all wrong. You want to leave a legacy behind like your dad did? Well guess what, _you have_. You're a name partner. Professors use your cases in their syllabus at Harvard. Your name has appeared in multiple articles and journals. Every lawyer who applies to work at Pearson Specter is doing so because they want to work for you. Shall I keep going?"

Harvey smiles weakly. "Well, when you put it like that."

Mike bumps their shoulders together. "Do I need to keep stroking your ego?"

Harvey rolls his eyes, but soon sobers. "Still, it isn't what I imagined. I'm not the man I thought I'd be, the man my father thought I'd be."

"I know I never met your dad, but Harvey, there is no way he wouldn't be proud of who you are. Because I know you know this, but I'm just gonna say it anyway: you saved my life. And you know what, even taking away everything else, do you know what I think your greatest legacy is? _Me_."

"What were you just saying about ego?" Harvey smiles.

Mike can't help his returning grin. "I'm serious, Harvey. There is no one in this world who would've given me that job, but _you_ did. Any good thing I've ever done over the last five years or any good thing I will ever do going forward, you did it too. I'm your legacy."

Harvey tilts his head. "I thought you wanted to quit? What about all those goats that need rearing?" Harvey teases.

Mike lets out a light chuckle, and it's ridiculous that something as silly as Harvey giving him shit makes him feel more at ease about everything, but it is what it is. "Look, I'm not even going to begin to compare our situations. But however dazed you feel right now, I feel some of that too. You've been an immutable force in my life since the day we met, and I never pictured doing this without you. I still don't know if I can. But I'd try, if that's what you wanted."

“I can’t make that decision for you, Mike.”

And of course Harvey chooses now of all times to decide to stop making decisions in Mike’s life. The one time Mike actually really wants him to, because honestly, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to leave the firm and give up doing the only thing he’s ever loved, but he also can’t even fathom doing that job without Harvey there. "Well, at any rate, I don't have to decide right this moment. Right?"

Harvey's lips quirk upwards. "Sure."

Mike can't help but consider Harvey for a moment. Even though he has a better understanding of where Harvey is coming from compared to earlier today, there is still something niggling at his brain, something he needs to know. And maybe it's selfish to ask, because this is about Harvey and not him, but that's just how their relationship goes. They can be imperfect and selfish people, knowing all the while that the other person has their back, no matter what.

"Can I ask you something?"

Harvey raises an eyebrow. "I think that may be the first time you've ever said that to me. But yes, Mike, ask away."

"Why didn't you ever tell me how unhappy you were?"

A flash of something goes over Harvey's face, too fast for Mike to catch. He shifts closer to Mike on the couch and looks intently at him, like he wants Mike to be certain of whatever it is he's about to say. "Because it wasn't your problem, Mike. And there was nothing you could've done about it."

"I would’ve tried, you know. I would've done anything to make you happy again."

He smiles softly, placing his hand on Mike's forearm, fingertips lightly caressing his inner wrist. "I know."

Harvey doesn't move away. His fingertips move imperceptibly but with definite purpose, light strokes that send tingles along Mike's skin. Mike really wants to look away but he can't, eyes fixed to Harvey's like it's the most important thing he will ever do. Harvey doesn't look away either, not until he lifts Mike's hand with gentle fingers and presses a soft kiss to his palm. Mike lets out a shaky breath and Harvey looks at him under hooded eyelids, Mike's hand still pressed to Harvey's face.

The room feels flooded with all that has ever gone unspoken between them, and the truth is that this isn't the first time something like this has happened (although it's already gone further than ever before). Ever since he and Rachel broke up there have been moments between them, times when it would've been so easy to change the nature of their relationship, but for whatever reason each time those scenarios presented themselves either Mike or Harvey pulled away and it dissipated into thin air.

But Harvey isn't pulling away this time, and God knows Mike isn't going to be the first one to. Harvey, gaze still fixed on Mike's, starts moving in, and Mike mirrors the action, drawn to Harvey like a magnetic force. But before they meet Mike uses his free hand to grip Harvey's knee, an unspoken signal that Harvey adheres to, his face stopping mere inches from Mike's.

"Are you sure about this?" Mike can't help but whisper. Because he is, but maybe there's a reason this hasn't happened yet.

"Right now it's the only thing I'm sure about."

There are probably a million possible responses to such a statement, but Mike can only think of one, breaching the gap between them and pressing his lips to Harvey's. The kiss is simple, chaste, their mouths moving together just so before Mike pulls back. He looks Harvey in the eyes, hoping for some kind of reassurance, and instead he's overwhelmed by the certainty and desire he sees reflected there.

This time there is nothing chaste about their embrace. Mike wastes no time familiarizing himself with the taste of Harvey's mouth, wrapping an arm around him and pressing their bodies closer. He must've been slightly more enthusiastic than anticipated, because Harvey falls back on the couch and Mike follows him down, Harvey chuckling against his lips.

They kiss wildly, desperate to make up for years of lost time. Mike kisses Harvey like he wants to devour him, a feeling he's never had before and which should scare him with its intensity, but he feels nothing but safe. Because this is Harvey, and Harvey means safe and free and home.

Harvey's hand finds its way under Mike's tee and grips tightly at his hip. Mike gets a thigh between Harvey's, manages to strategically position himself above Harvey instead of just lying where they fell, and starts grinding slowly down on him. Harvey groans, head tilting back, and Mike takes the opportunity to attack his neck, sliding open mouthed kisses down his skin and grazing his teeth along the tendons.

Mike eventually becomes aware of Harvey trying to push off his t-shirt, so he reluctantly withdraws so Harvey can pull the material over his head. He briefly debates divesting Harvey of his shirt, but decides it would take too long, instead just pushes the material up as far as it will go before lying back down and pressing the skin of their torsos together as they kiss.

"We should move this to the bed," Harvey suggests between kisses, but Mike shakes his head.

"No," he says, hands going to Harvey's jeans and making quick work of the button and zip. "I've waited five years for this; I'm not waiting one second longer."

And before Harvey can make a reply Mike kisses him, his tongue sliding into Harvey's mouth as his hand slides into his briefs. Over the years Mike has given a lot of thought to how this might feel, finally having his hands on Harvey, feeling his warmth and weight in his hand. And there’s a part of him that wants to stop, to take the time and wax poetic about how amazing it is to finally get his hand on that warm, smooth, amazing cock, to maybe even slide down Harvey’s body and worship him with his mouth and tongue or to strip them both bare and ride Harvey until they can't remember their own names. But what he wants more than that is to get Harvey off, as soon as humanly possible, have him writhing underneath him as he comes between them. He needs it like he’s never needed anything, needs them to cross that line once and for all and know that nothing will ever be the same again, because after what Harvey did today nothing _will_ ever be the same again. This is their moment. It’s their chance to seize the opportunity life so rarely grants them and Mike refuses to waste another moment living this life without seeing Harvey’s face as he comes.

It doesn’t take long. Mike is lightly biting at his jawline when Harvey’s breathing gets suddenly more labored and Mike increases his pace, whispering in Harvey’s ear, “Come on, come on, now, Harvey, come on, please…” until Harvey comes, his body arching up under Mike’s and his hands pressing into his ribs.

Mike presses light kisses on his neck and jaw as Harvey recovers, and when he thinks he has enough breath in his lungs Mike kisses him, Harvey returning it with equal ardor.

Harvey finally breaks the kiss and with a wicked grin, says, “My turn.”

Harvey’s hands are at his pants and Mike pushes himself up slightly to give him more room. Harvey pushes down Mike’s pants and boxers to mid-thigh and gets his hand on him and Mike almost passes out. He’s so hard already, and Harvey’s hand on his cock feels dry and rough and so, so good that his arms strain with the task of keeping himself upright because he just wants to press everything closer to Harvey and get off with every inch of their bodies in contact. Instead he closes his eyes and lets go, lets every feeling he has express itself in moans and cries and a litany of words that mostly consist of Harvey’s name and begging him for more, for everything. Harvey’s other hand finds the flesh of his ass, gripping him desperately, as Mike's hips make aborted thrusts. Harvey presses his mouth to Mike’s neck, licks and kisses at the base of his throat and along his collarbone, and Mike can’t last, coming with a cry, his whole body shuddering with it.

Somehow, despite the shaking arms and legs and everything, he manages to keep himself hovering over Harvey, and even as breathless as he feels he kisses Harvey, mouth open and barely moving, just wanting the contact with him as he comes down from his high. Finally his strength gives out and Mike collapses onto Harvey, their stomachs sticky where they meet.

Mike doesn’t speak, and neither does Harvey. When he’d thought about this before, entertained the obviously impossible notion of what might happen if he and Harvey got together, he always thought that afterward it would be awkward, that they wouldn’t be able to look at each other and it would just feel weird. But this isn’t like that at all. He feels sticky and sated and exhausted and overwhelmed and a million other things, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels right.

"What’s going to happen now?" Mike finally asks, voice slightly hoarse.

"I don’t know,” Harvey replies softly, fingertips gliding lightly up and down the plane of Mike's back. “But we can worry about it tomorrow. Right now I just want to be here with you.”

“Me too. But maybe we should move this to my bed?”

Harvey chuckles, pressing a kiss to Mike's forehead. “Lead the way.”  



End file.
